Russian Ridge
by FlynnWriter
Summary: A cold case gets blown wide-open when Garcia recognizes one of the victims from her own past. (Slight headcanon for Garcia's past)
1. Chapter 1

Penelope Garcia was typing furiously in her lair, presiding over the monitors in front of her as if the ugly, ergonomic desk chair was actually a throne. A soft knock interrupted her fingers, and she whirled around to see Derek peeking his head in. "Hey, girl, what's it rated?" He asked, eager for some pseudo flirting with the tech goddess.

"PG, as always," she responded, quirking an eyebrow mischeviously. "But I could make this baby rated R."

"I'll have to sneak out to see it then." He walked into the office, turning her back around to face the monitors.

"What can I do for you, jailbait?" She asked, minimizing some extra screens.

"I need some info."

"Well, info is the jam in the pb&j of my life." She giggled as Derek rattled off a list of parameters. "What's this for, a consult?" Derek shook his head, reaching for the files he had brought with him.

"Cold case. Back to the nineties, near Cleveland." Garcia saw some photos in the file and tried not to look too close, but a couple of other pieces of evidence that had been pressed inside the pages caught her eye. There were a few receipts, a couple of tattered parking tickets, and a wristband to a novelty theme park that had probably long since closed.

"Huh," she said softly, fingering the worn wristband in her hand. "Russian Ridge…" Derek looked up from his notes, brow wrinkled.

"What did you say, babygirl? I didn't catch that." She had carefully laid the band of colored paper aside her keyboard and pulled up a new search window, not responding as she pulled up pictures and results. "Penelope?" Derek repeated, trying to read the searches as fast as she put them in.

"Russian Ridge. It's a theme park that I used to go to as a kid. They had these fake mountains, pretend snow and all that. The scariest roller coaster I had ever ridden." She gestured to a picture on the screen of a brightly stained wooden roller coaster that was nothing by today's standards but had brought her endless adrenaline rushes as a teenager. "It was the place to go during the summer. They always boasted that they made the best snow-cones outside of the USSR…back in the days when they actually called it that." The memories brought a smile to her face, and Derek realized it was probably one of the few childhood moments untarnished by the sadness of losing her parents.

"The bracelet was found on what we think is the third victim of a serial killer. We never really had much to go on, it looks like. It was two years before I joined the BAU, but when I was a rookie agent I would go through cold cases on my nights off to try and earn some good standing with the brass. I still pull it out every now and again to see if anything new has come up." His was the only name on the log book; it had been since the case was closed all those years before. Something about it always pulled him back, and Morgan could never quite put his finger on what it was. It was the most mundane of cases: there was only three identified victims, linked only by location, and the murders had an equally ubiquitous signature; the women were stabbed in the abdomen and left to bleed to death. The Cleveland PD had put resources into initially and it had been one of the first cases where they consulted with the BAU team, but interest had quickly run out after victims had stopped appearing. Maybe it was this lack of exposure that drew Morgan to the file, and yet…there was something else, some detail he always felt was missing.

"Well, give me the deets." Garcia said, pulling a few familiar forms towards her. "I'll run it through VICAP with some special flags I've been developing for exactly this purpose!" Morgan gratefully picked up the sheets and began to relay Garcia the information, pausing shortly for her to type in the necessary parameters.

"Mays, Elizabeth. 32, married, one kid. DOB March 19th, 1964. She was the first one we discovered, some patrolmen found her in the trunk of her own abandoned car. Fieles, Mary, 30, born Novemeber 11th, 1962. She was engaged and had already taken in her deceased brother's child, um…Ingrid Fieles, who was 16 at the time." He paused, letting his finger waver on the next name. "We found the Russian Ridge wristband on the third victim, but her ID was fake, and her name and picture wasn't in any system that we searched at the time, so we considered her a Jane Doe. Her body was found about a mile off of the theme park and her face had sustained partial damage that the medical examiner had determined to be animal-related. Coyotes, he said." Morgan stopped reading and got lost in thought until Garcia turned around, gently flicking his muscled thigh.

"Hey," she started gently, wheeling herself over until she was directly in front of him. She set her frog-manicured nails on his dark denim jeans and looked up, meeting his eyes. "This case is obviously bothering you. So, spill."

"This girl…she had the wristband on, right? So she probably had just left the theme park. But no one goes to a park like that alone. She had to have friends, or parents…"

"But no one ever reported her missing." Garcia finished plaintively. She pulled one of the fun pens from her cup and began fiddling with the poof on its tip, a habit that indicated she was sinking deep into her analytic thoughts, looking for new ways to approach the old case.

"I already checked missing persons in the Cleveland area and the wider Ohio area. Hell, last time I even looked at all of the surrounding states. There was no one."

"That's so sad. And you said the ID was fake? Why would she need that? It wouldn't be for drinking, if she was older than 21."

Morgan took another pen from cup on the desk and began to play with the tiny racecar that adorned its tip, complete with tiny white-walled wheels that he rolled along the pad of his thumb. "I thought that too. The medical examiner concluded that she was about 28 at the time of death. My next idea was that she was running away, from a boyfriend or marriage or family. But there's only so far you can go without a valid name."

"Hey, you know…a lot of times, if someone is running away and needs a fake ID, they'll use a name that's familiar to them. Or the same initials." She had turned back to her computer and was typing relentlessly once again, modifying her previous searched to account for the new information. "Do you have the ID in your file? I could run it."

Morgan quickly paged through the file and frowned. "I know I used to have a copy, but it's not here anymore. Cleveland PD probably has the original."

"All I need is a name. DOB, if you have it; it might be an important event from her life that's easy for her to remember."

"Alright, here we go." Derek's fingers traced down the paper, landing on a small note near the bottom. The name was written in the margins of the document, next to the 'Jane Doe' that had been typed in. He squinted to read it, holding it closer to the light. "I can just make it out. Last name is…Jacquet? Seems french…First name…Natalia. No, Natalie. Honestly, I'm not sure. All of the notes refer to her as Jane Doe. DOB, October 31, 1967. She must've liked Halloween." His brief smile faded when he looked up to see Penelope turn towards him, her face a mask of confusion and disbelief. "Babygirl?"

"Give me the file." She demanded, yanking it from his hands before he could offer it. "That's all you have? Just a name and a date?"

"I can get Cleveland PD to fax me the original." He was clearly caught off guard, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Pen, what's going on? Penelope?" But her eyes were ensnared in the black typeface of the document, and only looked up once she was done reading it through.

"It wasn't Halloween. She didn't like Halloween."

"Penelope, talk to me. You want to tell me what's going on?" The tech analyst's hands were shaking as she read the document again, then turned the page to see if there was any more.

"Natalie. It's Natalie, not Natalia. Derek, I…I knew her." He immediately knelt down, taking the file from her and reading it again. Her lips were pressed tight together, and the scared look on her face reminded Derek of a child's naïveté when faced with a ghost story. Perhaps that's what this is, he mused silently. For her, it's a ghost story.

"Babygirl, are you sure?" He asked, handing her back the file. "So, Natalie Jacquet is her real name?"

"No, not Jacquet. Smith. Natalie Smith. Illinois Jacquet is the name of a jazz saxophonist from the big band era. And it's not Halloween, October 31st is his birthday. October 31st, 1922." Her eyes were wide, and Morgan set his hands on her shoulders in the semblance of a hug. "I mean, I can't be sure. Ohio is a big place, and Natalie isn't an uncommon name. I mean, we even knew another Natalie Smith. Smith isn't uncommon either."

"Hey, hey." He soothed. "I'm going to go get Hotch, and then I'm going to call over to Cleveland homicide to get a copy of this ID. You need to calm down, until we know for sure that it's her. Can you do that for me, Pen?"

"Penny." She said in a small voice.

"Penny?" Morgan repeated. He had been on his way out the door, but the abnormally laconic Garcia pulled him back in. He fired off a text to Hotch to come to the office instead, and slid his phone into his pocket.

"She called me Penny." Garcia said, a smile breaking through the gloom. "She was the first one to help me dye my hair. It was obnoxiously reddish-copper, and she called me Penny for so long that eventually, it stuck, even if the hair didn't."

"Penny," Derek mused, trying to keep the room light. "I like it. I'll add it to my repertoire."

"She was the only one to ever call me that." Garcia said sadly. As Morgan began to say something else, she cut him off, a frown on her face yet again. "And she's the only one who gets to."

* * *

 _Natalie was sitting on the worn carpet in Penelope's bedroom, painting her nails with outrageously magenta polish as she waited for the younger girl to come out of the shower. She had been watching Penelope during night shifts for two months now, and she had fallen in love with the way they somehow made a whole family, just the two of them. When the girl had admired the streaks of blonde running through Natalie's hair, their imaginations had run wild with possibilities for eleven year old Penelope. They settled on something safe, a shade of auburn that the box called Honey Sienna. They double checked it with Penelope's mom, of course, but in all honesty, Natalie knew that they would have done it even without permission._

 _Natalie admired her manicure and blew on them so they would harden. She heard the soft pad of footsteps, and as the door opened, her jaw dropped. "Oh my God!" She cried out. "It looks terrible!"_

 _"I know!" Penelope said, devastatedly running hands through her limp, wet locks. "We need to change it back."_

 _"Maybe it will look better dry." Natalie suggested, not sure what else to say. "Come sit down." She plugged in the hair dryer and began to brush through Penelope's tangled hair and dry it out. The girl's eyes were shut tight, trying to forget what they had done, but Natalie was beginning to smile. It reminded her so much of her first dye job, which had given her yellow hair with a tinge of greenish-gray that didn't grow out for months. She began to chuckle, wondering if she could find pictures of that dreadful period of her life._

 _"How can you laugh?" Penelope said indignantly. "I look like an Irish setter. Or a tomato. Or—"_

 _"A Penny." Natalie smiled. "You look like a Penny."_

* * *

Garcia was sitting in one of the chairs at the round table, Morgan at her left and JJ at her right. JJ had her hand entwined in Penelope's, the other was paging through a copy of the file that Morgan had made. Hotch sat across from them, and Rossi stood in the background, appraising the group as they read. They were still a member short after SSA Kate Callaghan had left the team, but they were in the process of recruiting a new agent. That is, until this came up. Reid was the last one in the room, and he first one to start talking. "I've been over this file twice and Morgan's right, this case is textbook. It gives pretty much our standard profile as far as I can see. White male, mid-life, 9-5 unassuming job, probably married or divorced." He looked around the room, seeming to notice the attitude of the room. "Sorry," he mumbled to no one in particular. Dumping his bag and blazer in the empty chair next to him, he sank down and looked to Hotch.

"Well, right now we're only interested in confirming the identity of our victim." Hotch said, bringing the screens to life. "Penelope, are you sure you want to stay for this?" Her eyes, though bleary, were stony.

"I'm here, Hotch", she said adamantly. "I knew her."

Hotch nodded once and pulled up the first shot, a scan of the original crime scene photo of a woman's body, partially covered in brown, dead leaves. The next picture was a close up of the face, which was a gruesome mess of blood and forest floor. Everyone's eyes shifted to Garcia, watching her visibly tense. If there was any question in the identity of the woman, it was confirmed in the next photo that Hotch put up, a driver's license picture of a young brunette woman with high cheekbones and a wide smile. "This was the picture on the ID that Cleveland PD faxed over." He paused, but he didn't need to ask anything before he knew the answer, written in tears down the side of Garcia's face.

JJ pulled her close, wrapping her arms around the tech as Hotch set the screens back to black. "You said her name was Natalie Smith?" Hotch probed gently. "How did you know her?"

"She was my babysitter. When I was young, and before my mom remarried, we lived right on the border between Ohio and Pennsylvania, right on Lake Erie. My mom would hire Natalie to watch me during the summers when I was too young to look after myself, but then she became my cool older friend. She would drive me places, or take me out for ice cream if my mom needed a break. Like an older sister, almost." The tears had petered out, replaced by (of all things), anger. At whom, or at what, the team had no idea, but her voice had taken on a certain edge. "She was eight years older than me, and she had her own life. Never got to go to college, but she still was working her way through the ranks of a little supermarket in town."

"Garcia, when did you last see her?" Rossi asked from across the room.

"A few months before I moved to San Francisco with my mom. I had told her we were moving, and she just…" Garcia's face paled suddenly, and Morgan reached out to put a hand gently on her back. "She just disappeared. Oh god, I thought it was about the move! I mean, I was twelve, but what if…Oh my god." Her breaths were rushed, and Morgan and JJ met each other's concerned glances over her head as they tried to calm her down. "I thought she was mad that we were leaving."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _The Ohio afternoon was sweltering with the sticky humidity that made it feel like they were living on the sun instead of smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. The breeze off of Lake Erie was no match for the height of the Midwestern summer, a time of year when the normally temperate skies would spout tornadoes or lightning storms to remind residents that the winter was not too bad after all._

 _Eleven-year-old Penelope Garcia was sprawled wide in the grass, letting it tickle that small, sensitive area in back of her knees as the sun streamed mercilessly overhead. Her babysitter sat straight-backed against an elm tree a few feet away, preferring to keep her fairer skin in the shade, but she watched the girl with great care. Penelope's fingers worked on a delicate chain of clovers, but every now and then she would pick up the book at her side and read a few pages before setting it back down. The sordid romance novel that her babysitter had lent her made her feel sophisticated, but she had to struggle to stay interested in the mundane lives of the characters. "They end up married, don't they?" She questioned. Natalie smiled slyly, unwilling to reveal the end until the girl had reached it. It was an argument they often had; Nat hated spoilers and enjoyed the magic of the story, while Penelope couldn't stand not knowing and often read ahead. "Nat?" The smaller girl asked again. "Do you have a boyfriend?"_

 _Sensing Penelope's inquests would not end any time soon, she sighed and put her own book down in the grass. "Why do you ask?"_

 _"So that's a yes?" Penelope countered quickly. She rolled over onto her stomach to carefully observe the elder girl's reaction. "I knew it!" She arched her back, struggling to position the completed flower crown in her hair. It ended up lopsided over one of her pigtails, but that didn't matter at the moment._

 _"That's a yes." Natalie said. She flopped down beside Penelope, brushing a few stray blades of grass off the girl's back._

 _"Do you like him?"_

 _Natalie grinned again; someone her own age would have taken this fact as a given, but her charge's young mind took every inquiry a step further. Her grin faded as she thought of an answer that was truthful but wouldn't open a new can of worms. "I think it's impossible to like anyone all the time."_

 _"Do you ever not like me?" Penelope sat up, perturbed by the thought._

 _"Of course not, Pen. You're different. I think it's impossible not to like you."_

 _Seemingly satisfied, she laid down again, confronting the bright rays of sun with closed, peaceful eyes. Natalie closed her eyes too, and almost lost Penelope's next question in the heavy, humid air. "Do you love him?"_

 _Natalie thought for a long time about her question, but Penelope was waiting patiently and Nat had never been one to disappoint. She sighed heavily, retreating back underneath her sheltering tree. "Not as much as I love you."_

* * *

As the team delved deeper into the other unfortunate victims, Garcia excused herself from the round table and strode quickly to her lair, dabbing at her eyes with handkerchief that was initialed with the letters "JTY". She swung by her office and grabbed a small bag, then continued on to the bathroom. She pushed open the door, noticing for the first time that JJ had shadowed her. "Do you want to be alone?" she asked, arms folded over her chest.

Garcia shook her head. "I just need to touch up my make-up." She handed the unzipped bag and handkerchief to JJ, who neatly folded it.

"Who's JTY?" She asked, fingering the initials.

"I found it at a thrift store." Garcia said proudly. "I've always wondered, though. I bet I could find him…" She kept talking, going on and on about various search patterns and filters. JJ marked this as a victory, glad that she had been able to make Penelope smile. She pulled off her vibrant glasses and set the frames next to the faucet, immediately wiping smudged color from her raccooned damp eyes. As she reached for the eyeliner, JJ stopped her with a strong hand.

"You know you don't have to do this, right? You don't need to put on a show for anyone."

"No." Garcia said firmly. With a practiced hand, she deftly swooped the black line along her lid, tapering easily into a perfect swoosh. She held out an open palm, into which JJ dropped a peacock-esque palette of eyeshadow. As Penelope blinked at her reflection, she avoided JJ's piercing blue eyes. "She taught me how to do this," Garcia confessed. "The make-up, the clothes…that was all her. I was a perfectly normal ten-year-old before she came along. "

JJ grinned, handing over a tube of bright coral lipstick that was somehow perfectly matched to Garcia's sweater. "So Natalie was another bright and shiny flower child of the seventies?"

"Not really." Garcia mused, smacking her lips. "I mean, she used make-up, but…that was just the tools of the trade. She gave me the brush, and showed me that I was my own canvas." The heartfelt words reminded JJ of her mother, teaching JJ and her older sister how to apply make-up in the bathroom mirror. "Natalie was an expert, though," Garcia continued. "She just…understood. What I wanted, who I wanted to be…who I was waiting to be."

"She sounds like a wonderful person," whispered JJ.

"She was like a mom to me…she was one of the only people my mom connected with too, after we moved to Ohio. Probably because my mom was barely old enough to be considered an adult." Garcia ran her fingers gently through her riotous yellow curls, lost in thoughts that JJ didn't dare interrupt. "When I told Nat that I wanted to dye my hair, she's the one that convinced my mom to let me do it."

"I would have said no." JJ added, handing Garcia her glasses back and reclining against the wall.

"She started calling me Penny after it ended up a disgusting, coppery-brown color. And the name kind of stuck." She was on the verge of tears again when JJ pulled her into an embrace, stroking the soft curls. But Garcia tensed and pulled away, fiddling with the glass-beaded bracelet on her wrist. "JJ, can you…I just want to be alone for a while. Please?"

"Of course." She agreed easily. But inside of her, an alert went off. Who was this woman, who didn't want to be around people and pulled away from hugs? JJ knew that had she pressed it, the old Garcia would have accepted the company, but this sad, submissive Penelope was entirely uncharted territory. She walked out and gently closed the bathroom door, almost running into Morgan who was leaning against the wall.

"Where is she?" He demanded. Arms crossed, he would have been imposing to anyone else other than the team, but JJ had worked with him so long that she recognized the protectiveness of the stance.

"She wanted to be left alone."

His eyes narrowed at the words; she had intended them to be as much a warning as an answer. "I'll see what I can do," he finally mumbled back, his big hand encompassing the handle.

JJ clenched his wrist in a steely grasp. "Derek, you can't." Her voice was low. "She wants to be alone."

"Bullshit," he replied, but he backed off. "What do we do Jennifer?" He finally asked dejectedly. "Some closure would be good for her, but we have absolutely nothing on this guy. We don't know anything about Natalie Smith. Her only record had Garcia's mother listed as an emergency contact. We have nothing." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, reliving years of frustration from the case.

"We have Garcia," JJ offered.

"You want to do a cognitive?"

"If it comes to that," JJ admitted. "I was just going to try talking first. It seems like she and Natalie were pretty close."

"They were eight years apart," Morgan argued.

"Exactly. Garcia must have looked up to our victim. Maybe Natalie was a mentor for her."

"I've never heard her talk about Natalie," Morgan realized. "Still, that was a long time ago. Who knows what she'll remember."

Penelope hadn't argued when Derek insisted on spending the night at her place to make sure she was okay, but now she wished she had. Her plan to down a bottle of wine and sniffle morosely on the couch were hindered by his concern, but she knew that would only make him worry about her more. Instead, she grabbed a craft beer from the fridge for him and poured a single (albeit very full) glass of wine for herself.

"Thanks, sweets," He said as she placed it in front of him. He lifted his left arm so she could snuggle in, and she did gratefully, finding comfort in his warmth. "So, what'll it be tonight? Animal Planet? Old black and white reruns? History-but-not-real-history channel?" The last one made the corners of her lips creep upwards.

"I Love Lucy." She answered firmly. But her thoughts were already elsewhere, wading through a swamp of old memories. Derek gently tucked a curl behind her ear, then turned the volume up in an attempt to distract her and get her to relax. Even under his arm, as she smiled along with Ricky and Lucy, she felt distant and detached, introspectively realizing that those adjectives were rarely used to describe herself.

Well into their fourth or fifth episode, as both of their eyelids were starting to droop, Morgan's cell phone rand. He groggily squinted at the bright screen, then back to Garcia, whose eyes were wide open and staring up at his. "Hey Hotch." He answered, maneuvering out from under her. He stood up, cracking his back. "Yeah…Yeah, I can be over there in a few."

"I'm going with you." Garcia said as soon as he hung up. To her surprise, Morgan didn't argue…too much.

"You should sleep." She briefly shook her head, and he let it go. "Get dressed; grab your things."

She had changed into yoga pants and an old sweater when they got home, and now, she pulled on the closest pair of flats she could find and was ready to go. As Morgan ushered her through the door, he noticed her attire but didn't dare comment on it. "Stop for coffee?" He asked breezily, trying to keep it light. The mention of caffeine elicited a small smile and nod, and when they finally arrived at the BAU, she was, at the very least, more awake-looking than she had been at the apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

They walked through the doors of the BAU at the same time as Rossi, who also palmed a stainless steel travel mug of coffee. "How are you doing, kid?"

"Morgan got me coffee," she replied. It was the easiest thing to say, although it didn't even begin to answer his question. She took another sip of the frothy, sugar-loaded liquid and let it burn down her throat. "Did we get a break in the case?" She queried the older agent. Morgan had refused to reveal anything on the long drive over, but Garcia once again didn't have the energy to argue about it.

"I don't know anything," Rossi answered honestly. "I just got Hotch's message to come in." As the trio entered the bullpen area, they could see Hotch and Reid, still in their work clothes, huddled over the contents of a file in the round table room.

JJ flew in behind them, in jeans and an ancient-looking New Orleans PD shirt that must have been Will's. "It took forever to get Henry to calm down and go to bed. What's up?" Rossi's and Morgan's eyes raveled to Hotch, who was motioning them all to join himself and Reid. JJ gently touched Garcia's shoulder as they walked in, and although she didn't ask how the tech goddess was doing, the question was clear in her eyes.

"We've got the killer!" Reid exclaimed before they had even had a chance to sit down.

Morgan's eyebrows shot up and he cuffed Reid on the back of the head. "My bet is that you boys haven't even left the office. And you're telling me that you caught the killer?" He was half amused, and half annoyed that Reid could be joking around at a time like this.

"Reid, Morgan, slow down." Hotch interrupted diplomatically. "What he meant to say is that we can link these murders to a case that's already been solved. There are certain similarities between our case and an unsub by the name of Joseph R. Miller, who was caught by the Oklahoma PD in 2003. But he was originally from Ohio, and two of our victims match his victimology almost exactly."

"Only two?" Garcia asked quietly, standing off to one side of the room.

Hotch hesitated. "Natalie Smith had no children, and she had a lighter complexion in comparison to the rest of Miller's victims."

"So we're looking for another killer. One who has the knowledge and skill to recognize and copy Miller's signature." He rubbed a hand over his brow, trying to process the new turn their case had taken.

Hotch paused again before he answered, and it didn't go unnoticed. "This is a cold case," he finally said. "If another situation arises, we can't just ignore it to pursue something that may or may not pan out. For all we know, Miller did kill Smith while he was in the process of narrowing down his victimology."

"Hotch, we have to at least look into the possibility of a second unsub." Morgan demanded, leaning on the table with muscles flexing. His eyes flickered to Garcia, who had so far had sat silently through the discussion.

Hotch's gaze shifted to the woman who had seemingly hollowed before them in mere hours. "I agree." His tone was still diplomatic, but also fervent enough to betray his underlying loyalty for the team and its members. "Garcia, I'd like to talk to you about Natalie, if you're comfortable with that." She nodded her consent without smiling.

The whole team was shaken. Garcia had been fairly open and honest about the tragedies of her past, and those who knew her well enough kept watchful eye on her and had been there for her after the tough cases that had somehow dampened her glittering glow. But even in those moments, there was enough spirit left that they could pull her back to her sunny self. Now, it seemed like someone had taken that core and left in its place a gaping hole.

* * *

 _The bottom of the sun was edging its way towards the horizon as Natalie and Penelope trudged up a low, rocky embankment towards the older girl's ancient, mint-green station wagon. The car, parked haphazardly in the almost-empty parking lot, had seen better days. Patches of rust were starting to show and paint was chipped around a dented fender. The trunk creaked as Natalie heaved it open and deposited the remains of a picnic the two had consumed on the beach._

 _They had stayed until the breeze blew shivers up the girls' arms, then returned to the car. Natalie slouched in the driver's seat, unwilling to start the engine and end their night. "We can stay," Penelope offered. She had sensed that something was wrong in Natalie's life, but her eleven years of experience weren't enough to discern exactly what was bothering the older girl. "My homework's all done." Penelope added._

 _Nat gave in easily, opening her door again. "Hop up," she said, patting the hood. Natalie retrieved a blanket from the backseat and, sliding up onto the hood, spread it over both of their legs._

 _"The sunset is supposed to be beautiful tonight." Penelope chattered easily. "Something about the humidity and cloud cover that enhances he refractive properties of the water droplets in the air. Mrs. Wallace was talking about it in biology the other day." The sun indeed was putting on a show, casting vibrant hues over the horizon and shining a brilliant orange-red._

 _"Mrs. Wallace, huh? How's she doing?" Natalie's eyes were closed, and her head was back as if she were tanning in a bright afternoon sun instead of shivering as the twilight's coolness settled around them._

 _"Fantastic! She's the coolest teacher ever," Penelope gushed, "The other day in class, we got to look at actual strawberry DNA under a microscope!"_

 _"Strawberry DNA…So who was the strawberry's father?" Natalie teased half-heartedly._

 _Penelope closed her mouth with a snap, hurt by the dismissal, but started in on a new subject. "Nat, what's wrong with you?"_

 _Though the older girl could have laughed it off, she respected Penelope and knew the question was coming from the goodness of her heart with no ulterior motives whatsoever. Hell, she probably didn't even know what ulterior motives were. Natalie thought for a second more, then frowned and leaned against the windshield. "Do you ever feel lonely?"_

 _Penelope nodded silently and reclined against the windshield next to her friend ignoring the wiper blade that was pressing against her back. Natalie adjusted the blanket again and petted the soft fibers as she found the right words. "And, you know how, when you're lonely, you just kind of feel empty sometimes?" Another nod. "I feel like that. Empty. Even with other people."_

 _"Even with me?" Penelope asked, snuggling close to Natalie._

 _"Sometimes."_

 _"But you have other friends. And my mom is your friend."_

 _"It's different. This kind of loneliness can't just be fixed by being around other people."_

 _"What will fix it?" The question hung in the air as they both waited for an answer to come. Finally, Natalie closed her eyes again, and Penelope could sense that her question was something hat Natalie had asked and was still waiting for a response. But at least now, she wouldn't have to wait alone._

* * *

"She probably had depression," Garcia said. She was seated in one of the chairs in Hotch's office, answering his questions with thorough, but short, responses. "Clinical depression wasn't commonly diagnosed back then, but I doubt Natalie even had health insurance. I always just thought she worked too hard, like my mom. Nat waitressed full time, then would come and watch me while my mm worked. She would bring us milkshakes and waffle fries, and the three of us would sit on the couch and watch wheel of fortune before mom left for her night shift."

"So she spent a lot of time with the two of you?"

"At first, she was just the babysitter, but she started joining us for meals, and then she would just come hang out at our house. The last year that we lived there, she had a boyfriend, and I think he moved in with her."

"Did they get along well?" He hadn't been taking notes, but now he took his notepad out of his pocket.

Garcia suddenly noticed her hands shaking, and she clenched them into fists before Hotch could see. "I don't know…Nat didn't talk about him a lot."

"But they spent most of their time together?"

"I remember his truck in the driveway almost every time that we drive by. They were renting a basement apartment from a woman on the street perpendicular to ours."

"And were they still dating when you moved to San Francisco?"

"I don't know," she admitted again. "'I mean, I was only 13."

Despite sensing that she was getting uncomfortable and defensive, Hotch pressed on, because at this point, getting answers was as necessary as it was difficult. "Do you remember his name?"

"Just a first name…" He was blurry in her memories, a meld between a young Tom Cruise and footloose-era Kevin Bacon. "Josh…I couldn't even tell you exactly what he looked like. I can probably try to get phone records from back then and look."

"Josh? Not Joshua? No last initial?" Garcia shrugged. "Do you think you might have a picture of him? Maybe of the three of you?"

"I'm telling you Hotch, I barely remember him."

"Just a few more questions, and then we're done." Hotch chided.

Garcia's eyes were gazing out of Hotch's window, and he could tell that her attention was elsewhere. "What was he like around Natalie, in the few times you saw them together?"

"He was pretty quiet, but he would pick her up from our house after he was done with work. Sometimes he would have a bunch of flowers that he picked in a culvert by our house. Nat would love it when he did that, but he was always kind of uncomfortable. Like, apologetic."

The last word triggered an unwelcome thought in Hotch's brain. After all, people that were apologetic usually had done something to be apologetic about. He put the topic aside and went another direction with his questioning. "Did you ever think Natalie or Josh could be using drugs?"

"Natalie was very against drugs…I think she had seen too many friends ruin their lives that way. I doubt she would have stayed with Josh if he had been involved with any of that."

"And alcohol?"

Garcia's face fell. "She wasn't an alcoholic." Sensing more to the story again, Hotch let her continue, but he could also see that she was close to shutting down. "I can't say that she didn't drink. She had a rough life…sometimes, I think it was the only way for her to get away from it."

Now, Hotch was confident that she was holding something back, but he wasn't going to push her over the edge. He had what he needed for now. "Penelope, what do you want to do next? Can you work?"

"I can't promise objectivity, sir," she answered suspiciously. She was surprised that Hotch hadn't suggested that she remove herself from the case, but suspected that he had an underlying purpose. He wouldn't be Hotch if he didn't.

"I don't expect you to be objective on this," he responded honestly. "We need you on this case, Garcia. But we need you focused. Can you do that?"

Garcia knew a peace offering when she saw one, and she graciously accepted, knowing that she was also agreeing to constant scrutiny by her team members that came with it. She stood up and met Hotch's eyes.

"I'll start now, sir." As she stepped into her own office and shut the door, she exhaled and let herself get caught in the memory triggered by Hotch's words—a memory she would have rather forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _It was late, almost midnight, but 12-year-old Penelope was still awake, finishing a pint of ice cream as she watched reruns of Antique Roadshow. Her mom had already gone to bed, complaining of a headache, so the tween girl had the entirety of the old, worn, plaid couch to herself. She was wrapped in an old crocheted afghan against the cold February air that made its way into the house through an old crack on the outside of the window._

 _Penelope was idly wondering if the ancient table supporting the TV could get them onto the Roadshow when suddenly, she heard the front door open. She froze, listening to the sounds of someone stamping snow off of their boots. Creeping closer, she grabbed the closest weapon she could find, which happened to be the ancient, clunky TV remote. She held it aloft, ready to chuck it at the intruder, or maybe hit him or her (she wasn't really sure). When she finally peeked around the corner, she relaxed and squeaked in relief. "Natalie!"_

 _"Penny!" The girl exclaimed. "Why are you wearing pajamas?" She was slurring her words, and almost instantly, Penelope could sense that something was really wrong._

 _"Nat, what are you doing here?" Natalie was still wearing her boots, melting snow on the linoleum floor, but Penelope couldn't see the older girl's coat hanging on a hook. "Did you just come over here in your t-shirt?"_

 _Natalie looked down, seemingly unconcerned that her only protecting from the cold was a worn concert t-shirt. "I just wanted to say hello!" She said brightly. "Do you want a hug?"_

 _"You're drunk." Penelope said. But she allowed herself to be drawn in to a tight hug. It was her first experience with a drunk person, but she was smart enough to be wary. "Nat, why don't you take off your boots and come sit down."_

 _She obediently kicked off her boots and followed Penelope to the couch, where she laid down and put her head in Penelope's lap. "It's like a sleepover!" She giggle-slurred. "Just, like when I was little! Remember, Penny? Remember the pillow fights? And my mom would make rice krispie bars?"_

 _Penelope certainly could not remember, but suspected that the girl was melding together memories. Suddenly, tears began to flow down Natalie's face and she hiccupped miserably. "Josh never wants to have sleepovers."_

 _"Josh?"_

 _"He was so mean to me today! He told me that I don't spend enough time with him." She hiccupped again and stared up at Penelope's bewildered face, then turned her head towards the TV, where a wrinkly old woman was getting some tiffany light fixtures appraised. "I like those lamps," she mumbled, snuggling in closer._

 _"Me too." Penelope agreed, glad to steer the conversation into safer territory. "I bet they're worth a lot." But drunk Natalie had more to say._

 _"I miss my mom," she slurred, tears blurring her mascara and eyeliner. "She made the best rice-krispie bars. And she would hug me when I was sad, you know." Even though Penelope told Natalie everything, the reverse certainly wasn't true; Natalie hardly ever mentioned her past. Suddenly, she sat up. "I'm going to see her." She swing off the couch, and swayed as she stood up. "You want to come, Penny?"_

 _"Natalie. Sit down. It's too late to go anywhere," Penelope pleaded._

 _"I'm going to see my mom." Natalie said loudly. Her shouts echoed in the quiet, dark house._

 _"Natalie, you're drunk." The quiet, steady voice made both girls turn. Penelope's mom stood at the bottom of the stairs, cinching a ratty bathrobe at her waist. "Come sit down, you can stay here tonight." There were bags under her eyes, but Penelope knew her mom well enough to see the empathy that was there too._

 _"No! I need to see her!" Natalie protested, erupting into angry tears._

 _Penelope's mom closed the rest of the distance to the girl and wrapped her in a warm hug. She stroked the girl's hair as Penelope stood staring. "She's gone, sweetie." Her mom whispered. "She's gone."_

* * *

Derek and JJ sat in the leather chairs across Hotch's desk with files and crimes scene pictures spread over every surface. The door was closed and blinds were drawn to keep their discussion from Penelope's ears. "I think Josh was abusing her," Hotch said, handing JJ a thin medical file. She skimmed the contents and looked up skeptically.

"You got that from a broken wrist?" JJ handed the file to Morgan. "Cause of injury is listed as a softball injury. No medical history before that."

"Agreed." Morgan said, tossing the file back down on the desk. Seeing the look in Hotch's eyes, he quickly backpedaled. "Unless you saw something else that we missed."

"It's something Garcia said in the interview. She said that Josh would give Natalie flowers, but he was always apologetic and uncomfortable."

"There's more than one kind of abuse," Morgan commented, taking Natalie's medical file back again. "You think it was emotional?"

"I think something was going on. If Natalie was having trouble in her relationship, it explains why the two people that were closest to her knew nothing about him."

JJ came to a picture of Natalie's body as she was rustling through papers, face down in the ditch with limbs askew. "You think he may have killed her?"

"I think he's our best suspect right now."

"He's our only suspect right now. Do we know anything more about him?"

"I have Garcia looking into the other two girls and Miller, but I have a call in to Cleveland PD for more information on Josh."

"We don't even have a last name," Morgan said. "What could Garcia tell us about Smith?"

"Natalie Smith was estranged from any close family or friends, but she spent a lot of time with Penelope and her mother before they made it to San Francisco. She was Penelope's babysitter, and also a waitress at a local diner."

"Did she have any records?" JJ asked.

"No more than a driver's license. She dyed her hair, which is why we couldn't identify her before." Hotch reclined in his desk chair

"Hang on a minute." Morgan interrupted. He held up a copy of the fake ID that Natalie had made. "We still haven't figured out why she had this. Or what she was doing at the theme park."

"Could she have been running away?" JJ asked. "Her only connections to the area were moving away, and if she was in an abusive relationship…"

"She would have no reason to stay." Hotch finished. "But why not go to San Francisco with Garcia? Why didn't they know about it?" They fell into silence, each running through scenarios in their heads. Finally, Morgan spoke up.

"What if Josh threatened Garcia?" JJ asked icily.

"It's possible." Morgan said. "You said that she doesn't remember much about him?"

"I didn't want to push her." Hotch said, "but I know there was something that she wasn't saying."

Garcia's office was empty when Morgan went to look for her after the meeting with Hotch. Reid and Rossi hadn't seen her from their desks, and Morgan grew increasingly worried as JJ checked for her in the bathroom. "You tried her cell phone?"

Morgan dialed her number again, and shook his head. "That's it. I'm calling security. Where the hell did she—"

"What's going on? "

"Penelope!" JJ practically shrieked. "We couldn't find you!"

Garcia held up the dusty file box in her hands apologetically. "I was in the file room…"

"…Where there's no cell reception." Morgan finished. "What's all this?"

"These are all of the bureau's notes from the case." There was still a very un-Garcia-like edge in her voice, but the work seemed to take her mind off of Natalie for the time being.

"Need help looking through it all?" JJ offered.

"Shouldn't you guys be busy?" She asked pointedly.

"Baby girl, we're never too busy for you." Morgan teased, desperately trying to coax a smile to her lips.

"You guys must have more questions." Garcia muttered darkly.

JJ exchanged a worried look with Morgan, who shrugged imperceptibly. He shifted the carton underneath an arm and pulled Garcia in close with the other, kissing the top of her head. "I know it's hard. And I know it's been a long time. But we're just trying to help you. And help Natalie."

The trio turned and walked down the hallway to Garcia's office. "Penelope, we need to ask you about Josh."

"I told Hotch, I don't remember anything." Morgan flipped the top off the musty carton, pulling out a yellowed file. JJ was leaning against the desk on the other side of Garcia, thinking hard.

"Did you try to keep in touch with Natalie after you left?" JJ asked.

"Of course I did. All of the letters were returned to sender, I thought she might have moved or something."

"So you had Josh's address?" Morgan asked eagerly.

Garcia paused, but shook her head. "I doubt it. I barely remember my own address from when I lived there."

JJ, digging through the file box, had an idea. "Do you still have the letters?"

"I burned them." Garcia admitted. "I got angry that Nat never answered."

"You're positive that you don't have one stored away anywhere? In an old box at your house?"

"There's nothing. I told you, they're gone. Ashes to ashes." Her voice was cold, and very un-Garcia like.

"DNA." Derek blurted, finally exasperated. "If he licked an envelope, if he even left fingerprints on the envelope, we can match them."

Her eyes lit up with a forgotten memory. "There's a picture…he took a picture of Natalie and I. It's I a scrapbook at my house. It might be too degraded, but there's a chance." She gently shoved JJ to the side and reached for her purse. "Am I driving, or are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _The cement driveway had cracked long ago and was stained with spilled oil and age, but the attention of passerby was caught by the brilliant colored mural that was taking shape on the rocky canvas. Penelope and Natalie worked silently, speaking only to ask for a new color of chalk. It was a comfortable silence, built on their shared memories, the way that they seemed to communicate through their artwork instead of words._

 _Natalie leaned back, wiping brilliant pink hands on her frayed jean shorts as she stretched her arms over her head. She reached for the glass of lemonade that sat a few feet behind her and surveyed their work. Flowers and animals crawled around the two of them, kaleidoscoping outwards as far as the girls could reach without moving. Penelope was putting the finishing touches on a purple and orange tiger that napped underneath blue palm tree that Natalie had drawn. She was focused on blending the colors with her index finger, adding a few swipes of yellow or red to accentuate its stripes. "We're moving." Penelope said without looking up. "To San Francisco. In September." When Natalie didn't respond, Penelope grabbed a new color and began to paint the tiger's delicate claws with a sliver of green chalk._

 _"I'll miss you." Natalie finally said, taking up a new piece of chalk to begin sketching another piece._

 _"That's it?" Penelope asked, outrage hiding in her voice. "That's all you have to say?"_

 _"What do you want me to say? That I'll come with you? That I'll give up my job and my life to follow you across the country?" Natalie was working hard on her geometric design, an abstract collection of sharp angles and lines. She dragged the chalk angrily against the ground, creating dust that she tried to brush away, but only succeeded in smearing._

 _"I want you to say that we should stay."_

 _"Penelope…" Natalie said gently. "I want you to stay." She rolled the chalk between her fingers, then tossed it towards the other girl. "You're thirteen. You have to know by now that we can't always get what we want."_

 _"You can. You can come with us! Live with us, find a job in San Francisco."_

 _"I can't just pack up my life. I just got a promotion. I have boyfriend."_

 _"Speak of the devil." Penelope mumbled. Josh's truck had stopped at the curb, and he jumped out, pushing a pair of scratched aviators into his wheat-colored hair._

 _"Hello ladies! Nat, you ready to go?" His t-shirt was sweaty, his work boots dirty and scuffed, but his smile was wide and genuine._

 _"Just a second, Josh." Natalie said, shooting Penelope a glare. "Hey, can you take our picture? I have the camera inside." She ran inside, leaving the other two in an awkward silence._

 _"Hurry up!" He called after her. "I want to get home in time for Jeopardy!" Penelope rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Josh walked over and looked over her shoulder. "Hey, Nice iguana!"_

 _"It's a chameleon." She said indignantly. It was Josh's turn to roll his eyes._

 _"Penny, come here!" Natalie said, handing the camera to Josh. She pulled Penelope into a close hug, and Josh snapped a picture. Natalie grabbed the polaroid and shook it impatiently, waiting for the image to appear, but Josh was growing impatient._

 _"Nat, let's go."_

 _She handed the picture to Penelope, and stalked away to the truck. "Later, Penny." Penelope heard the door slam and the engine growl to life, but she didn't look up as the truck drove away. Instead, she stared as hard as she could at the picture in her hands, hoping that her gaze could make the image appear faster. When she could finally make out their silhouette, she giggled. Josh had taken it too early, catching the girls mid-laugh when neither were looking at the camera._

* * *

"Here!" She triumphantly unearthed a picture from its plastic sheet. It was a touch blurry, but the smiles on the faces of the two girls were unmistakable. Derek took it with a gloved hand, depositing it into an evidence bag. "You're like the guys on CSI." Penelope commented as Derek held it up to the light. "You know that does nothing?"

"I know, babygirl. Just checking. You ready to go?"

"Actually, I think I'm going to stay here." Derek was immediately worried, and his eyebrows knit together in concern. "I'm fine, Derek. I'm just tired. I want to take a nap."

"I can stay." He said, putting the evidence bag down. "If you need me, I can be here."

"No, they need you. And before you say that I need you, I don't. I'm going to sleep, and eat a bucket of ice cream, and sleep some more. Maybe watch a chick flick and cry some more."

"You need me." Morgan said again. "I'm going to call JJ and have her come pick this up."

"Derek. Right now, I need you…to go." Her voice was even and firm. "Go find Josh."

He paused for a second longer, but gave in. "You call me the minute you need me. Not a second later." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket for emphasis, and it rang in his hand. "Is that you?"

"Umm…no." He looked at the screen.

"It's Hotch. Babygirl, I am one phone call away. Love you." He kissed her forehead then walked out the door, picking up the phone. "Yeah Hotch."

Trying to push Garcia from his mind, he started the SUV and tried to listen to what Hotch was saying. "No, she's going to stay here. She doesn't need to know."

Hotch's voice on the other end was steady. "You don't think she already knows?

"No. You think she's innocent now, imagine how naïve she was twenty years ago."

"I suppose that's right. So how do we prove it?"

"We need to find Josh. I'm bringing in the picture right now. There's a chance that it might have his fingerprint." He looked at it in the driver's seat, and found himself staring at Natalie instead of Penelope. The image of her pale face had haunted his dreams for years, but the picture from the cold case had nothing in common with the girl that held Penelope close.

"Have you tried searching for him by proximity?" Reid's voice joined the conversation, obviously on speaker phone in the squad room. "We could check the addresses surrounding Garcia's house for anyone named Josh."

"That was the first thing we did." Morgan responded, still studying the picture. "He must have been unofficially renting because there are no records. We don't even know if he has a driver's license. All we know is he has a red truck." Frustration was creeping into his voice, and although he would be the last one to give up, he was not immune to doubting his team's ability to find their unsub.

He hung up with Hotch and Reid and focused on the road that stretched before him, trying to let himself be lulled by the blurring colors. Normally, he loved driving, loved the feel of the SUV as it screamed past everyone else , loved the adrenaline that flowed through his veins like smooth oil through an engine. But on drives like this, it always felt like an eternity had been wasted by the time Morgan got to where he needed to be.

He cursed under his breath as he looked at the speedometer, desperate to let it climb over the posted speed limit. Louis Armstrong's trumpet sang over the radio, but Morgan was too distracted to enjoy it as he struggled to come up with a new way of looking at the case that had bothered him for years.

He couldn't put a finger on exactly what had kept him coming back to the cold case. Perhaps it was the theme park wristband on Natalie's abandoned body, maybe it was something more ethereal, a spiritual connection that refused to be severed.

Finally, he pulled into the BAU parking garage and, after dropping the picture by the lab, joined the team in the bullpen. They were poring over the notes that Penelope had brought up from the file room, occasionally sharing pertinent information with each other. Reid was looking at a map of Penelope's old neighborhood, marking certain locations with a purple felt-tip pen.

Morgan checked his cell phone, where a new message from his favorite lab tech appeared on the screen. "There's no usable prints." He said out loud, drawing the attention of the team. "There's only a partial, and it was too smeared to use."

"I don't think we need it!" Reid said excitedly. "I think I found where Josh lived." Morgan walked over and looked over the genius' shoulder at the map. Reid splayed his fingers out on the map, tapping earnestly to different points. "This is Garcia's house. This house, two streets over, had an old widow who lived alone, but she filed for special exemptions on her tax returns that indicate there was someone else living with her. None of the other houses in a mile radius had borders. It's got to be her."

"So how do we get Josh's last name?" Hotch asked.

Reid looked troubled. "I don't know. The tenant, Sarah Clintsman, passed away two years after the Garcias left. She was survived by a daughter, Jessica."

Hotch sat down at his laptop and pulled up a database query, quickly searching the daughter's name. "Jessica Grand, nee Clintsman. Lives in Washington state." He pulled the room's conference call system towards him and dialed the number. After three rings, a female voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Jessica Grand?"

"If this is a telemarketer, please remove me from your list." Her voice was curt and short, but the response was not a new one for the BAU team.

"Ma'am, this is the FBI. I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, we had a few questions about your mother, Sarah Clintsman."

"She passed away years ago. What is this all about?"

"We believe she rented her home to a young man named Josh? We are looking for anyone who might have information about him."

"Of course! I was in college by then, but I when I came home on breaks I would see Josh now and again. I had a crush on him for a little while, but I think he had a girlfriend." The group looked at each other eagerly.

"Do you remember his last name?"

"Of course I do!" Jessica laughed. "I still follow him on twitter. His last name is Ware. Joshua Ware."


	6. Chapter 6

**C** **hapter 6**

"So where is Ware?" Rossi chuckled after they hung up. Morgan shot him a disbelieving look, clearly not in the mood for Rossi's dry attempts at humor.

"I'll call Garcia, get her to check him out." Reid said, already pulling out his cell phone.

"Good Lord, boys." JJ said dramatically, already typing on the laptop in front of her. "Join the twenty-first century. We already know that he's on Twitter. So that's probably a good place to start."

"I don't even know what Twitter is." Reid mumbled to himself and making Morgan crack a smile.

"Joshua Ware lives in Kansas City. He's got a job as a car salesman."

"Skeaze." Morgan commented, pulling up Ware's record on his own computer. "He has a record…some minor drug charges, but here…he's got an assault charge from a woman who he accosted in a bar in Cincinatti."

"Speaks to his character," Hotch said grimly. "Any family?"

"Twitter bio says he's single." JJ interjected. "He has a dog. I get the sense that it's the only creature who could stand to be around him. He doesn't have too many followers, so I'm guessing he's not very popular in person either. Want me to call the local Bureau office and have him picked up?"

Hotch nodded. "Do it." As JJ walked into her office to make the call, Hotch drew the others in. "I don't want Garcia knowing about Ware. We have enough as it is, we can get more information when we know that we have him in custody."

Morgan, who had already pulled out his phone, stopped in the middle of dialing. "What harm would it do if she knows?"

"She might jeopardize an already flimsy case. If we don't get a confession, we don't have anything. If Ware knows about her, our interrogation could be compromised."

"Hotch, she could help us! We need her on this, you said it yourself."

"I said we need her focused. We don't need her researching her friend's accused murderer."

"Do you think she's sitting at home napping? Hotch, you know that she's probably working her ass off right now to try and find this guy. And you're just going to let her do that, when we know full well who she's looking for?" Morgan's words were true, but Hotch didn't back down.

"Derek, take a step back. Do you think this is what Penelope needs right now?"

"She needs to know the truth." Morgan walked away, redialing his cell phone, and Hotch knew exactly what he was doing. He looked to Rossi for his next move, but his old friend merely shrugged and sat back down in front of the case notes he had been reading through. Reid avoided eye contact and he too picked up his stack of papers waiting to be read.

Acknowledging that his decision had been overruled, Hotch turned his attention back to JJ returning from her conversation with the Kansas City FBI. "They're picking him up from work as we speak. I'll have him transported here ASAP." Hotch nodded, thinking hard. "Hotch…what are we thinking, here? What evidence do we have, other than Garcia's word?"

"He has a rap sheet." Rossi interjected. "Violence against women. I'm guessing there's a few disgruntled ex-girlfriends we could talk to."

"Family history?" JJ asked, sitting down at her laptop again.

"Parents divorced when Joshua was fourteen, he lived with his father because his mother moved to Alaska."

"Speaks to his abandonment issues." Rossi commented. "There's no record of him being investigated as a suspect, no surprise there."

"When we first started investigating this, we said he was a copycat of Miller. Does that still fit?" Hotch asked, looking at the board that displayed the three victims next to each other.

"If enough details were given on local media, it would be simple for Ware to imitate the MO. They're both crimes of passion, so they're not dissimilar." Rossi opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again and looked down at his notes.

"What are you thinking?" JJ asked, noticing his hesitation.

"This might be a stretch…but what if Ware knew Miller somehow?"

"It's possible. But what difference would it make?" Hotch turned back to the board, trying to fit the new theory in with the evidence they had. They were all lost in their own theories, paging through folders and pacing around the room, when JJ's phone buzzed.

"It's Kansas City…" She picked up, and they listened carefully to her side of the conversation. "…yes, we're sure it's him. He's where? Okay, okay…yes, we'll take care of it. Thanks for all you've done. Bye." She hung up, a confused look on her face. "He wasn't at home. He's here…in DC. Chaperoning his niece's middle school field trip."

"Well then, it's time for a field trip of our own." Rossi said, shrugging on his blazer.

* * *

 _The gates of the theme park were cut into the shape of a mountain range, a towering façade of fading brown and green paint. The "Russian Ridge Theme Park" sign also included the Russian translation underneath on the off chance that anyone in Ohio could read Cyrillic script. Penelope was bouncing on the balls of her feet as her mom and Natalie chatted behind her, waiting for tickets to get in. She could see the top of the tallest roller coaster, but the rest of the park was blocked by the fake mountains._

 _"Penelope, what do you want to do first?" Her mom asked, laying a calming hand on her shoulder._

 _"Rasputin." The roller coaster, named after the notoriously hard-to-kill Russian vizier, was the crown jewel of the park; when it was constructed, it was the tallest roller-coaster in the great lakes region, including Canada. Penelope was far from fearless, but she also wasn't one to back down in the face of fear…she embraced the adrenaline. Natalie, however, did not appreciate hearing her heartbeat in her ears, so she was starting to look a little green. "You both promised to ride with me," Penelope reminded._

 _"I'm regretting that now." Natalie grimaced._

 _"As am I." They finally reached the gate and got their wristbands. Natalie lamented that the sticky part pulled at her wrist hairs, but Penelope just laughed._

 _"Just wait until you're on the roller coaster. Then tell me about how it pinches."_

 _"Fine." Natalie said. "I will ride it once, that's all. Just once, just for you. Then you're on your own."_

* * *

"Obviously, the school doesn't do background checks." JJ commented, standing outside the interview room with Hotch and Reid. Joshua Ware had been easy enough to find, right where the travel agency said he would be. They picked him up in front of the Lincoln Memorial to the confusion of the students and leaders, but Ware strangely hadn't put up any sort of resistance.

Hotch shook his head. "I'm definitely double checking before I send Jack on another field trip." Though they were both smiling, the gravity of the situation fell heavily on their shoulders.

"You're going in there?" JJ asked.

"I'm just waiting for Rossi before I head in."

"And Rossi is waiting for…" Reid waited for Hotch to finish the sentence.

"Coffee." Rossi said, walking around the corner. "Had to brew a fresh pot." The two men walked into the room, shutting the door behind them, Reid went to his desk, and JJ walked back to her office. On her way, Morgan and Garcia rounded the corner.

"What are you doing here?" JJ asked accusingly.

"Morgan told me you found Josh, and he was coming here. To the BAU. I wanted to see him." There wasn't much emotion in her voice, but this is what made JJ worry.

"Hotch and Rossi are in with him now. You just need to wait until they come back out."

"Can we arrest him, though? We don't have any evidence." Garcia pointed out flatly. Again and again, JJ and Morgan cringed at her cynicism, and their hearts ached for her. "We need a confession."

"You know Hotch. He'll get you a confession." Morgan said reassuringly. "Let's get you some coffee, we can go back to your office and look at pictures of baby animals or something."

"I have paperwork to catch up on," Garcia said listlessly, staring at her cell phone.

"You go to your office, I'll bring you coffee and leave you alone." Finally, she stood up and began walked towards her own office, only leaving enough time for Morgan to shoot a worried glance at an exasperated JJ as he followed. But as soon as they got through the door, Hotch called them over.

"Penelope…We need you."


	7. Chapter 7

**quick note: So, I was reading through this story because I forgot how it ended (yes, I did write it...it was a while ago) and I saw that I had never posted the final chapter on here. Super sorry. So, if you've been waiting with baited breath, sorry, here it is, the last chapter.**

"You want me to talk to him." Penelope said in disbelief. "To talk to the man who possibly murdered my best friend. Hotch, I'm not a profiler…but that seems like a bad idea."

"It was a crime of passion," Morgan reasoned, "so we just need to remind him of those feelings."

"I don't even know…I don't even look like I did when I was a kid. What do I even say?"

"Hopefully nothing." Hotch said, trying to be reassuring. "We've already asked him about Natalie, and he denied everything, but did show some signs of recognition. We just need you in there to make it real."

"And if this were any other victim, you would do the same?" Hotch hesitated, meeting Morgan's eyes. If it were anyone else, they wouldn't do the same. They would have more to go on than a profile and some tangential evidence that may not even hold up in court.

"Penelope, I know this seems hard. But I will be in there with you; I'll do all of the talking." She looked at Morgan, and in an odd way, the fear in her eyes reassured him that this was the right thing to do.

"I'll be right outside, Babygirl. You're stronger than you think."

* * *

 _They climbed into the car, Natalie to her left and her mom right beside her. Penelope felt thrill of fear as the chains began to jerk forward, but instead of looking ahead at the climbing hill, she instead looked at Natalie, whose eyes were shut tightly. "It will be less scary if you opened your eyes!" She tried to say over the din of the roller coaster. She edged her hand closer to Natalie's fist that was already going white-knuckled. "It's better if you know where you're going."_

* * *

Garcia could hardly believe that she was sitting across the table from him. It didn't even seem like the same Josh that lived on a folded filmstrip in Natalie's wallet, whose arrival was always announced by the jangle of his keys. The Josh Ware in front of her was balding and wore glasses with frames that had gone out of style or three years ago. He no longer sported a constant five o'clock shadow, this man was well groomed. He didn't seem to recognize her either, but when her name left Hotch's lips, a sudden recognition dawned in his eyes.

"Penelope." He said slowly. His voice carried no distinguishable emotion, but it unleashed in her a flood of memories. "You were just a kid when I last saw you."

"Joshua, we were talking before about Natalie Smith. Can you remind me, when was the last time you saw her?"

"She broke up with me at dinner one night. I went to work the next morning early and didn't see her. Then when I came back, she was gone." He said it with the same easy tone that Penelope had used to talk about Natalie, and it made her blood boil.

"Why did she break up with you?" Her rage was barely concealed in her voice, and he chuckled.

"You never liked me when you were a kid. And by the way, she was pissed at me because I suggested we find an apartment together."

"You said before that you broke up with her." Hotch broke in, throwing a sharp glare towards Ware.

"Same difference." He said, still staring at Garcia. "It was mutual."

Garcia felt anger flow through her like it never had before. "No. She loved you."

"Garcia—"

"Even when you hurt her, she wouldn't leave you. Even when we left, she stayed." Garcia's throat burned as she said the words.

"SHE DIDN'T STAY!" Ware finally burst out. "She didn't stay. She was going to leave."

Garcia sat back in stunned silence, but Hotch was still unfazed. "So you killed her."

"So I killed her! She went to that stupid theme park and I waited until she said goodbye and you two got on the bus and left." Garcia stood mutely, and walked out of the room, past the stunned faces of all of her team members. Morgan followed her, and caught her just as she got to the door of her office. He ushered her inside, and wrapped his arms around her as she dissolved into tears.

* * *

 _As they climbed out of the roller coaster car, Penelope held up Natalie as the girl wobbled from adrenaline-filled legs. Her mom was laughing, still incoherent from the wild ride, and Natalie was laughing too, but Penelope could see tears in the bottom of her eyes. "So?" She asked gently._

 _"That was quite literally the most terrifying thing I've ever done." Her mom declared, gently pulling the end of Penelope's ponytail (it was blonde again, with a streak of blue down the side)._

 _"Never again." Natalie said with a quiet smile, still overcome by her fear. "You will never get me to go on a roller coaster again."_


End file.
